


skyfall

by Sauou



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Convention, I have No Excuse, M/M, Mistakes, Poetry, story in poems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauou/pseuds/Sauou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Delirious tags along with Cartoonz to a convention and gets spotted. The rest of the guys are convinced Delirious is just a one-night stand and work to set the two of them up.)</p><p>And he’s singing his theme song in the middle of the hallway | where anyone can hear | and know | when you get back from the airport two hours early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

.

And he’s singing his theme song in the middle of the hallway

where anyone can hear  
and _know_  
when you get back from the airport two hours early

carrying both cases of luggage  
up the stairs   
and down the hall  
to the room, 

you two will share,   
your ears assaulted with the perfect  
off-key harmonics of

_why so delirious  
don’t you know, everywhere I go_

until he sees you and screams

“Luke!” voice echoing   
words spilling from him  
like bad wine  
last regrets and lost chances  
as he tells you how he’s been 

waiting  
for hours and hours  
because he forgot the damn keycard in the room  
and he was too afraid

of the hotel clerk’s wrath to go  
ask for another  
because this is the third one today

and you really should have known better.

**.**

The convention doesn’t officially start  
until sometime tomorrow   
so you both decide

to go out for dinner  
and drinks

at the bar across the street  
where you both fit into the booth  
side by side  
your arm on his shoulder

laughing  
at everything and nothing  
until three in the morning

when everything always seems funny  
(and blurry)  
and you’re not really sure how you made it back

to your room in one piece  
stumbling through the door  
and sobriety  
to fall across the bed, face first

arms and legs  
everywhere.

And you can hear him throwing up in the bathroom  
as your brain starts to slow  
and you really  
should have know better

but the drinks were good and the night  
was young and in the end  
all that matters

is you had fun.

**.**

6 am  
is way too early  
(and 3 am way too late)

but you’re up and out the door before he can protest   
the light  
reflecting in his eyes as you go.

(Though you can hear him mumbling behind you  
through the closed door  
about all the injustices in the world  
and bad hangovers  
as he falls   
back to sleep.)  
  
And the panels last all day  
hours and hours  
of games and fans and

people

running up to you  
past you  
around you

everywhere you look  
somebody is there.

Recording,  
laughing and running, playing  
games and there is  
so much energy all around you

all you want is to go  
lay back down  
and sleep forever but

you’re here now and  
Wildcat is _hungry_  
he yells for the hundredth time outside the booth

for FarCry. And you all agree  
to go to the bar  
across the street  
where the drinks are grand  
and the time

seems to last  
forever.

**.**

And you’re standing outside  
the bar  
sending a text to Delirious to  
 _wake up_  
get dressed and  
eat something like a sane person when you realize

you’re missing your wallet  
it’s not in your back pocket where it should be  
and you’re struck by fear  
as you search the ground around you  
frantically hoping  
against hope

until your friends see you  
and ask __  
what’s wrong, why  
are you acting this way?

And you remember this morning  
falling out of bed  
and setting your wallet down  
on the nightstand as you

put on your pants.

**.**

“Likely excuse!”  
follows you when you tell your friends  
you forgot your wallet  
then turn and 

run

so fast you’re almost to the front door   
of the hotel  
when you realize

that wasn’t the truth at all.

It was back  
in the convention, just before the last panel  
when weary with 

hunger  
fatigue and unease  
 _Delirious hadn’t responded to you for hours_  
that you dropped your wallet in the locker  
you rented by the front door  
with your hotel room key  
(and sanity)

so it wouldn’t fall  
and be lost.

**.**

The knocks at the door  
are loud and insistent  
and wake him from the nest of blankets and sleep  
he’s carefully placed himself in

cocooning himself  
like a mammal in the den

all softness  
and warm things. Grumbling  
as he rolls off the bed  
and falls

**_bam_ **

to the floor, completely  
entwined in sheets and blankets  
and the last lingers of a hangover as he  
answers the door

and stares

at someone he should know  
 _does know_  
but can’t quite place between the  
nagging sensation  
of alligators in his stomach  
and baboons  
in his head

nausea  
that disorients him as

Marcel stares back  
and the sheets start to slip.


	2. Chapter 2

.

“You’re not Cartoonz,”  
Marcel blurts out as his eyes dart  
down

down  
with the falling bedsheets and  
glances quickly back up,

face red  
with embarrassment for   
the both of you   
until all of a sudden it hits you

with the draft coming in from the open door  
sheets still falling  
to the floor

and you’re standing there naked   
bare as the day  
before someone you’ve spoken to online a hundred times before.  
Still half-asleep

and disoriented

when your eyes  
 _crack_  
open with realization, flushing  
right down to your toes

your voice breaks  
“ _Get out!”_ as you  
slam the door in his face

run to the bathroom  
and hide

like a coward, sitting there in the bathtub  
still naked  
until you hear his footsteps slowly

walk away.

**.**

“I’m telling you,”  
Luke hears from his friends as he walks into the bar  
“He’s got a _boyfriend.”_

“It could be just a one-night stand,”  
Brock says softly before seeing Luke and  
eyes wide  
quickly finds interest in his food.

Luke stops  
at the table, his phone is ringing in his back pocket

_it’s got to be Delirious again_

and he is reaching for it when  
Evan says  
softly and with mild interest

“I didn’t know you were gay”

the words stopping  
his heart in his chest and he is left   
standing before them

bewildered  
until Marcel helpfully asks

_“Why was there a naked guy in your room?”_


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t remember,”  
you start to tell  
the crowd  
sitting eagerly, waiting for the juicy truth at the dinner table

 _mouths moving_  
legs parting, back arching  
beneath the night  
thighs sticking to the sheets from the sweat  
but you’re just  


_good friends_

“I don’t know,” you say, shaking your head  
the words slipping past  
“What you’re talking about.”

 _three in the morning_  
streetlights pierce the curtains  
bedsheets  
everywhere across the floor  
and everything is

_this doesn’t change a thing_

“I’m not.”

heart hammering  
tongue glued to the back of your throat  
the words are weighing you down

thoughts

clogging up your mind  
with murky muddy memories

_tossing and turning_

_the sweat runs down your neck_

_and up his_

_arches his back_

You pull out your phone and turn away  
stepping out of this conversation.

Scrolling and ignoring 

the whispering the muttering at your back  
as you walk  
strong-legged straight-backed

out the diner and down the street

swiftly pushing buttons not even  
seeing what you’re doing or  
where you’re going until

the flash of light from the sun  
across the screen of your phone

blots everything else out.

And you’re standing there,  
on the curb just before the bus stop

(where two happily chattering teenagers  
and a mom with her small child  
sit and wait for the afternoon lift)

when your reflection registers in your mind

red

sunburnt, flushed  
lips still parted  
drums buried inside your chest.

.

“Oh he’s gay alright,”  
Marcel chirps up happily just before  
digging into his bowl of soup.

Brock still staring at the door  
flushed  
out of empathetic embarrassment  
shakes his head slowly,  
mouth open with worried thoughts  
that can’t quite make it out

looks at Tyler

who just shrugs  
both shoulders  
up and out and away, not his problem 

why bother?


	4. Chapter 4

Walking slowly, side by side

back 

into the convention just after the lunch rush  
through the throngs of people. And

Tyler, 

slouching forward,   
shoulders up around his ears  
with his hands in his pockets, 

“I mean I just don’t see why it’s a big deal.”

Evan,   
out the corner of his eye  
he can’t quite look him in the face  
“It’s not, not to me   
I mean   
but I just thought,”

He doesn’t really know what he wants to say.  
“I just didn’t expect.. I mean..”

Flustered, floundering   
for the words, 

he turns to Brock.

Who still   
has nothing to say,   
just shakes his head. 

Looks at Marcel.

“What do you think?”

Catches  
the boy’s attention.

Marcel turns   
away from the floor to ceiling display,   
that lights up the hallway,  
off guard.

“Huh? What are you - 

you’re not still   
talking about Luke’s boyfriend   
are you?”

“It’s not his boyfriend,” Evan protests.

“We don’t really know that,”   
Brock mutters  
beneath his breath  
not really expecting his friends to hear him.

“Hey,” Marcel says   
and when they look at him,   
his hands raise  
high  
to ward off any further comments. 

“All I’ve got to say is,   
he’s got a pretty cute boy. 

Got the right stuff in the right places.”

Tyler staring   
right at him   
eyes wide and almost blank 

with words he doesn’t know how to express

until Marcel begins to blush   
and laughs off the look. 

“What?   
I told you   
I ran into his naked ass   
in Luke’s room. 

And, hey look! There’s the guy now!”

Standing there at the end   
of the row of displays,   
and playing   
with the controls for a new game design.

Luke nowhere in sight.

.

You wake up   
with a sore throat   
and can’t remember why. 

All you know is,   
your head is 

pounding 

and you’re exactly   
where you started from,   
in the hotel room.

You get dressed   
and go downstairs,   
still   
a little foggy.

Lurching forward

eyelids still heavy from lack of sleep.

There is a taste  
at the back of your throat

like regret

but the flavor is much   
too familiar   
_it reminds you of a friend_  
to swallow back down.


End file.
